As I Take My Last Breath
by EquestrianCSI
Summary: Kellerman tortures Sara for information, and Michael's headed to Panama. Or is he? Disclaimer: I don't have any connections to the show Prison Break. Not even a titch of a connection. LOL
1. Chapter 1

At the time, leaving Michael had seemed like the best thing Sara could've done. But, as she'd sat in the car, she had second thoughts. Michael was right in the sense that if she were to turn herself in, she'd be arrested for aiding in the excape of the Fox River Seven. In leaving the hotel room where they'd stopped for the night, Sara had effectively slammed the door on anything she'd felt for Michael. Or so she thought. Now, given her circumstances, she'd give anything to be on her way to Panama with him.

The hotel room where Kellerman had taken Sara after he snuck up behind her when she got out of her car to go back to Michael was nice; much nicer than the sleeze-bag place she'd rented by the hour and where she'd left Michael. But she knew that Kellerman hadn't brought her here for rest and relaxation. No, he had other plans for her, and by the way she was tied to the chair, Sara knew her life was about to become a living hell.

Kellerman had gone into the bedroom, leaving Sara in the bathroom with a tub that was rapidly filling with water. Alone with her thoughts, Sara suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of regret that she'd left Michael with things unsaid. Her thoughts wandered, and she pictured him sitting patiently while she doctored the gash on his arm.

"Dear God," she breathed, trying her best not to panic,

"Please let him come for me." She knew it was a stupid thought; Michael was on his way to Panama, and he wouldn't stop running to waste vaulable time looking for her. Surely he'd seen the car; surely he knew there was something wrong.

Dreadfully wrong.

Kellerman was still on the phone, talking to whatever goon was behind all this. Sara watched the water in the tub inch closer to the top.

"He's going to drown me," she thought, her breath coming in short gasps.

"Michael, please help me!" She wished so hard for him to come through the front door, that for a minute, she swore she heard a car pull up.

"I should've never left you. You lied to protect yourself; not to hurt me. I can see that now." Her words were whispered, yet barely audible over the running water.

Kellerman walked up silently behind Sara and waited. She didn't know he was there; instead, her lips moved with unspoken words.

"What's that?" Kellerman queried, taking pleasure in seeing his hostage jump in surprise.

Sara twisted her head around to look at her captor. Bile rose in her throat as she knew things were about to get ugly.

"Nothing," she lied.

_Something; something that's none of your business,"_ Sara thought, trying to hide her fear.

Kellerman grinned and walked around in front of her where she could see him.

"You can make this easy on yourself, if you want," he informed her, looking into her eyes with a faux smile.

His smile reminded Sara of a wolf's; menacing, terrifying.

"Do yourself a favour," Kellerman suggested, his face inches from Sara's.

"What did your father give you?" He waited for a response.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Sara said, confused.

Grabbing the back of her head, Kellerman forced Sara beneath the surface of the tub. Cold water closed above her, and she stared at the bottom of the ceramic bathtub. Faliling, she tried to escape, but Kellerman held her tight. Lungs burning, Sara fought against instinct to keep from gasping for air. If she did now, she'd drown.

"That's what he wants," a voice told her above her rising panic.

Just as she thought she were going to loose the battle with her oxygen-deprived lungs, she felt herself jerked up out of the water. Gasping, Sara glared at her captor.

"Damn you!" she thought, as he dried her face of with a towel.

Two more dunkings, and Kellerman left the room to answer a phone call. Sara sat, her mind on Michael Scoffield. Where was he now, she wondered. Because of her stupidity, she probably would never see him again. There were so many things she should've said. Many things she should've done.

"I should've trusted you," she whispered, her chest aching from the exertion of holding her breath so long under the water.

"If I could go back, I'd trust you with all of my heart. I wish you could save me," she whispered, unaware that Kellerman had disconnected from his call.

"Who could save you?" He asked, donning a pair of heavy rubber gloves.

Sara jumped again, her heart racing and fear clenching her stomach with iron claws.

"Nobody." She answered dully, resigned to the awful truth of the word.

Kellerman laughed as he plugged in an iron and turned it on as high as it would go.

"You're wrong," he said, and Sara tried to see him out of the corner of her eye.

"Tell me what your father gave you, and you can save yourself." he taunted, and stood beside her; waiting.

"I don't know what you mean," Sara repeated, her voice pitched with fear.

Grabbing her head again, Kellerman showed her the iron. Sara's breath hung in her chest, and her mind screamed in panic.

"Michael!" She swore she'd said the name outloud as Kellerman plunged her under again.

This time, though, he held the iron in the water as well. Electric current knifed through Sara's body, causing her to convulse as it hummed along her nerves and sizzled down into the marrow of her

bones.   
"Breathe", the voice in her head said, and Sara felt almost calm.

It would be so easy just to allow the water to fill her lungs; to float away from the pain and torture Kellerman was bestowing on her. Black spots began to fill her vision, and she felt herself giving in, when Michael's image flashed through her mind. Suddenly, Kellerman hauled her back up, and the electrocution stopped for the moment.

He pleaded with her to tell him what it was her father had given her, but the electric current had numbed her brain and she was having a hard time thinking.

"Go to hell," she spat out, and felt Kellerman push her under again.

"If I never see you again," she thought, oddly at peace as she convulsed beneath the water,

"I'll remember you as the man I loved to the end." As the roaring filled her head, and the electricity sizzled through her heart, Sara stared at the bottom of the tub.

She didn't see anything but Michael's strong jaw and winning smile. Her last conscious thought was knowing Michael would be a free man because of her.


	2. Chapter 2

Pulling up in front of the hotel, Michael cut the engine of his car. He knew he should be on his way to the middle of nowhere to meet up with Lincon and Fernando right now. But, plans had changed.

Sara had done a nice job cleaning out and bandaging the wound to Michael's arm, but when he'd come out of the bathroom, she was gone. A note on the dresser told him she had left him on his own, and he crossed to the window and peeked through the small gap in the heavy white curtains. What he saw made his heart jump, and adreneline rush through his veins. Someone was violently shoving Sara into a car, and by the way she struggled, it wasn't voluntary on her part. The man didn't turn around yet Michael thought he knew who it was. By the time Michael gathered his equipment and flung open the door, the car had sped away in a choking cloud of dust.

"Damnit," Michael breathed, sprinting toward his car.

Now, he cut the engine, scanning the hotel parking lot for the car that had taken Sara away. Spotting it in front of the last room of the east wing of the hotel, Michael opened his car door and took a quick look around for anybody that might recognise him and turn him in. Pulling his ball cap further over his eyes, Michael slipped on the mirrored sunglasses he wore. Reaching under the seat, his fingers closed around the handle of the hunting knife he kept with him. With a long, sharp blade and heavy handle, it would do major damage if used as a weapon. Sliding it into his boot, Michael exited the car

and raced across the parking lot, keeping low against the cars parked outside. Reaching Kellerman's room, Michael squatted beneath the window, listening. He had no way of letting Fernando and Lucas know what was going on; this was totally unplanned. Rising up just a hair, Michael squinted to see through a tiny hole in the drapes over the window. What he saw caused his breath to catch in his throat, and anger to surge through his viens.

Sara was seated in a chair, grey duct tape binding her tightly to the back. Kellerman was standing over her, one hand on the back of her neck and an iron in the other. Sara's hair was sopping wet, and her face contorted in agongy.

"Son of a bitch," Michael said, realising what was happening.

Looking around him again, Michael sprang up and ran around the building. The bathroom window was high and small, and Michael wondered if he could wriggle through it. He'd have to; Sara would be dead if he failed. Fate seemed to be in his corner as Michael realised the trash dumpster behind the building was directly under the frosted window above him. To the right of the window was a spot where the mortar had worn off of the cinderblock wall, partially revealing a hole that would make an ideal foothold.

"Hang on Sara," he said aloud, placing his hands on the dumpster's lid.

The metal was scorching hot, but Michael ignored the pain in his hands as he levered himself up. Rising to his full height, Michael

tried to look in the window. But the frosted coating prevented him from seeing anything. Raising his leg, and using the small window sill for leverage, Michael placed his foot in the hole in the wall and somehow managed to pull himself up despite the akward angle. Once he had his balance, he positioned himself against the wall, his body swaying precariously.

Damn.

He had nothing to break the glass with, and cursed himself for not thinking of that first. He knew he didn't have much time. He could hear faint splashing noises from the bathroom, and knew Kellerman had dunked Sara into the tub. Only God knew what he was doing with that damned iron. Pulling the knife from his boot, Scoffield took a deep breath and raised his arm. He wouldn't have much of a chance. The window had to break on his first try, or Kellerman would have time to get away. This had to be a complete surprise to be a success. Clenching his teeth to keep from crying out, Michael closed his fist around the knife's handle and brought his forearm toward the window.


	3. Chapter 3

Kellerman held Sara under the water's surface longer than he had before, holding the iron right next to her, allowing the electric current to jolt through her body until she was nearly limp. She was almost dead, and he knew that one more prolonged jolt would end her life, and he still hadn't got the information from her that he needed. Just as he brought her up, the window above the sink exploded from it's frame, sending shards of glass flying. Kellerman jumped back, staring in astonishment at the man now fighting his way through the broken pane.

Michael had prayed that he could get through the window with minimal trouble, and now as he slithered through and landed cat-neat on the bathroom counter, he was face-to-face with a very surprised Kellerman. Just over the man's shoulder, he could see Sara, sitting limp and pale in the chair to which she was tied.

"Scoffield!" Kellerman yelled, and lunged his direction.

Michael was ready, and sidestepped the man before tackling him to the floor. Michael had stayed fit in prison, and his strenght served him well. Although his arm was slashed and bleeding in several places from shattering the window, Michael ignored the pain, throwing the Kellerman to his back. Straddling the other man's torso, Michael landed two quick punches to the his face. Then, he raised the hunting knife he held in his fist. Kellerman's eyes grew wide at the sight of the evil looking blade glinting in the light from the overhead

fixture.

"Please," Kellerman began, trying to raise his arms, but Michael had effectively pinned them against Kellerman's body.

Michael's eyes glittered with blind rage, and the viens in his neck stood out in ridges. His body shook with anger and adreneline and he raised the hunting knife above Kellerman's chest.

"What the hell are you doing to her?" Michael hissed, turning his head quickly to look at Sara's unmoving body.

"You killed her, didn't you, you little bastard!"

The words weren't a question, rather an accusation, yet Kellerman shook his head vehemenantly.

"No, no!" He stammered, his voice shaking with terror.

"Lets see how you feel about dying," Michael's words came in a deadly whisper.

Suddenly, Michael had the distinct impression that he was standing to the side, watching himself prepare to plunge the knife into Kellerman's heart. It was as if he'd left his own body and was watching a movie.

_You're becoming a killer, Scoffield. Just like the inmates you've lived with for the past few months._

Michael could hear his conscence as if it were an audible voice. Isn't this what he'd gone to confession for? To atone for the sins he'd already committed?

With the knife's handle grasped firmly in his fist, Michael delivered a sickening blow to Kellerman's temple, knocking the man instantly unconscious. Standing, Michael went quickly over to Sara, laying his fingers against her neck. It was weak and thready, but Michael nearly cried in relief as he felt her heartbeat against her skin.  
"Sara," he whispered, brushing her sodden hair from her face,

"It's Michael. Please don't give up."

With the knife, Michael sliced through the tape binding Sara to the chair. Picking her body up, he crossed into the bedroom where he laid her gently on the bed and caressed her face with his hands.

"I've got to take care of Kellerman; just hang on for me, honey," he spoke urgently, hoping she could hear him.

Returning to the bathroom, Michael hefted Kellerman to his knees, half dragging, half carrying him to the chair in which Sara had been held captive. Seeing the roll of duct tape on the counter, Michael pulled off several long strips, lashing Kellerman to the chair tightly. Then, he took a wash-cloth, stuffed it in the man's slack-jawed mouth and wrapped a long swath of tape over his mouth and around his head, assuring the man wouldn't be able to make a sound should he come to before Michael got Sara out of there.

The chirping of Kellerman's cell phone on the bedside table was harsh in the quiet hotel room, and Michael walked over, picking the phone up and looking at the name on the Caller ID.

_Kim._

Probably Kellerman's boss, calling to see if Sara had given them what they wanted. Michael threw it to the floor and raised his foot to smash it with his boot. Then, he stopped. Either way, whether he smashed the phone to bits or let it ring, Kim would know there was something wrong if Kellerman didn't answer. Throwing it against the wall, Michael watched the phone shatter into a hundred pieces.

_That's that._

Turning, Michael went to the bed where Sara lay quiet and still atop the bedspread. Kneeling, Michael touched her cheek. It was cool to the touch, but that could be from the water. Sara's chest was rising and falling with each breath, and relief washed over Micheal, so strong and powerful, that tears clouded his vison.

"Sara, why did you leave?" he asked, hoping she could hear.

"I didn't mean to hurt you with all the lies. I had to protect myself."

The words seemed hollow; empty and useless. He'd lied, driven Sara away, and now she was hurt. It was his fault; his fault for talking her in to opening that damned door at Fox River Penitentary in the first place. Carefully, Michael laid his head against Sara's wet shoulder. He knew he had to get them out of there; somehow meet up with Fernando and the others, but right now, he felt too full of regret and remorse to care.

It was only when Michael made a move to rise that he noticed something. Looking closer, he saw it again; the unmistakable twitching of Sara's fingers. Looking into her face, he could see that she was fighting to regain consciousness. Michael felt himself choking up again as he watched Sara's eyelids flutter and then open. She looked slowly around the room, finally resting her gaze upon Michael.


	4. Chapter 4

The room came slowly into focus, and for a moment, Sara forgot where she was, and what had happened. Then, she remembered. The cold, cold water in the bathtub. Kellerman asking the same questions over and over. Her head being held under water until she thought her lungs would explode.

And then..

Oh God! The electric shocks.

She could still feel the pain in her body from the water-conducted electricity tearing through her very soul. She had screamed when Kellerman brought her up after the first shock. As she began to loose grip on reality, she couldn't be sure what she were saying, but she remembered what she'd thought.  
Michael.

Feeling someone beside her, Sara's instincts went on the alert. But when she looked over to see who it was, all she saw was Michael's ruggedly good looking face staring back at her. His expression was concerned; serious. Yet, when he saw her looking at him, he smiled a weary smile.

"Hey," he whispered, touching her face,

"How are you feeling?"

Sara felt like shit. Her mouth was dry, and there was searing pain in her head, and a deafening roar in her ears. Could her vision be decieving her too? She'd cried out for Michael the last few times she'd been pushed beneath the water, but she didn't think he'd come. He was surely supposed to be across the border by now. Yet he was there beside her, stroking her hair, touching her face.

"You came," she stated, her voice a whisper.

Michael grinned, nodding his head.

"I saw Kellerman taking you from the motel where we were staying. I knew it couldn't be good." He replied, glancing at the still-unconscious man in the bathroom.

Sara's eyes filled with terror as she rememebered suddenly what had happened to her.

"I was so scared," she blurted, her eyes riveted on Michael's face.

"I kept hoping you'd come after me, but I knew that was impossible. He kept pushing me under and then he started electrocuting me. I don't know what he wanted.." she trailed off as tears filled her eyes and she began to sob uncontrollably.

Michael eased her up, holding her gently against his chest, her wet hair soaking his shirt.

"You're okay, Sara. I've got you now," he said, rocking her gently back and forth.

Sara rested against him, every muscle and fiber in her body aching from the torture. Yet she drew strength from him; the chill in her bones began to receed as his body heat seeped through her wet clothes. Turning her head, she rested her chin on his shoulder, her mouth next to his ear.

"I knew that if he dunked me once more, it would kill me. He held me under longer each time. If I thought about you, it wasn't quite so bad. When I took that last breath of air, I wished so badly that I had one more chance to see you; to tell you something I should've a long time ago."

Michael tightened his arms around her, never stopping the soothing motion of his rocking.

"Whatever it is, it can wait until we get out of here, okay?" he stated, but Sara shook her head, pulling away.

"Michael," she began, looking into his eyes,

"Maybe I'm crazy, or stupid," she began, trying to block out the strange, jittery feeling in her nerves.

Michael frowned, unsure what she was going to say, and feeling the need to get going now and talk later.

"All I could think of when Kellerman was hurting me, was how much I love you, and how damned stupid it was for me to leave. I was afraid he'd kill me, and I'd never ever get the chance to say it to you. The last gasp of air I took before he held me under that last time, I said it, and I prayed to God that you would somehow know it even if I never saw you again."

Michael stared at Sara for a moment without speaking. He couldn't believe she'd just said what she did, yet he'd heard it with his own ears.

"Sara," he began, his voice trembling,

"Why do you think I came after you instead of heading out to meet up with Fernando and my brother?" He asked, stroking her hair with his hand.

"I loved you so much, I risked being left behind because you are so much more important to me than even freedom itself. If I go back to prison," Michael looked her dead in the eye, his expression serious with conviction.

"If I go back to prison, it's all worth it because you loved me. Do you understand that?" he finished, and Sara nodded, unable to speak.

The phone on the dresser began ringing, and Michael froze. He knew it was Kim, and knew that Kellerman's cohorts were probably on their way to the hotel. Standing, Michael looked down at Sara.

"I've lied to you; I know that, but I've got to ask you to trust me again." He grabbed Sara by the shoulders, afraid she'd remind him of the lies he'd told in the past.

"If you love me like you say, then trust me to get us out of here," he said and Sara nodded.

"Just don't leave me Michael," she whispered.

"Why would I do that?" he asked, helping her to her feet and leading her toward the door.

"Why would I leave someone I love more than life?"

With those words, Michael escorted Sara out the door and to his car, leaving Kellerman still tied to the chair.

Let Kim untruss him. After all, Michael and Sara would be long, long gone by the time Kim and Kellerman got going again.


End file.
